


Intersection

by fandroid1



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Catharsis Ending, Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandroid1/pseuds/fandroid1
Summary: A review over Narcissa and Lily's relationship.
Relationships: Narcissa Black/Lily Evans
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Intersection

**Author's Note:**

> [mific](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific) beta-ed this work, and made it a hundred times better.

Narcissa Black looks every inch the classic stereotype of a daughter of the nobility. She has pristine porcelain skin, long blonde hair, cool blue eyes and a poised, slender figure that transmits unreachable aloofness. People take it as the usual Black arrogance, but that's not it; she's too confident to need arrogance. Her academic achievements are impressive and her behaviour always meticulous, calm and reserved. 

She's very different from Bellatrix who's all dark beauty and blunt militancy, who enjoys clashes and opportunities to display her power and contempt. She also doesn’t resemble Andromeda, with her soft features and even softer heart, who often gets berating owls from home about befriending Muggle-borns.

Narcissa's the exact opposite of Sirius who deliberately kicks at the family’s legacy and does everything he can to declare himself a Blood Traitor. And even Lucius, with his slippery, sophisticated etiquette, is often inanely quarreling with Potter’s gang.

In these surroundings, Narcissa shines especially because she doesn't draw attention to herself. Many girls envy her, but in the same breath dismiss her as a dull, anaemic character, a depthless cliché. 

What people don’t grasp is that Narcissa knows perfectly well where the boundaries are, but she never bothers pushing them - neither strengthening nor breaching them. She moves within them, easily and precisely, knows all the rules and never breaks them publicly, but also knows how to cross them without getting caught. It grants her freedom to think and feel whatever she wants. So as long as she does what’s required and thoroughly hides what’s not proper, people never know what goes on inside her. They can call her apathetic, or a narcissist (smug at their own pathetic pun), but Narcissa knows who she is and what she's worth, and ignores all the rest.

Narcissa sees reality as it is and acts in a way that achieves her goals with minimum effort. Nothing disturbs her perfect balance. Because unlike Bellatrix and Sirius, Narcissa doesn’t care. The tempestuous talk about ideology or justice doesn't interest her, and her feelings about Blood purity are as ho-hum as about pro-Muggle reformers.

That’s why nothing moves in her face when she and Lucius enter the Prefects’ room for the first time, finding Lily Evans inside.

Lucius, on the other hand, has to make a scene. He expresses his disgust venomously, declares he will resign as a prefect in protest and to make sure Lily gets expelled as well and threatens to force the school to close. Needless to say none of it will happen, but Lupin, like the Gryffindor he is, steps forward in his friend’s defence and answers him, which only makes things worse. The Ravenclaws, law-abiding and reasonable, offer to call a professor to settle the argument as soon as possible (“We’re moving on to a study group later, you know, so if you guys don’t mind…”). The Hufflepuffs exchange troubled glances and the girl bursts out crying. 

Narcissa remains standing, her closed expression revealing nothing, and only after a few minutes of the fuss she notices something that bothers her. It’s not the noise - she’s used to being a still point of quiet in the mass’s tumult. Merlin’s beard, she grew up in a house with two sisters, one of whom is _Bellatrix_ , so it’s not like petty rows and screaming are new to her. No. What catches her attention is the other still presence in the room.   
  
Lily Evans stands tall and gazes with undisturbed serenity at raging Lucius. So undisturbed, that before long she looks away as if he doesn’t deserve even an iota of her attention. And in that moment their two pairs of eyes, ice blue and emerald green, intersect like wand fire connecting. 

  


* * *

  


Narcissa knows that as a Muggle-born, Lily Evans is an annoyingly accomplished witch (it doesn’t annoy Narcissa; she’s smart enough to acknowledge - privately - that there’s no link between Blood and talent). 

She knows about the friendship with Snape, who avoided the topic every time it arose, until one day he announced to Lucius that he no longer had any interest in the dirty little Mudblood. Lucius had smirked and patted his shoulder approvingly, but Narcissa's not stupid. She saw how Severus used to look at Lily - longing admiration and fervent loyalty - and she knows he could never be strong enough to make himself abandon her. Lily’s principles, on the other hand, are entirely different, and Narcissa doesn't have a shadow of doubt about who initiated their separation. 

The girls' toilets in the castle aren’t separated by houses (nor by Blood status, despite a determined protest led by Bellatrix), and they're another source of information, even if unintentionally. There's no way to avoid overhearing the crying or hushed conversations that take place in nearby cubicles, and Narcissa's learned that Lily Evans too has an older sister with a despicable character. Petunia Evans, it seems, is determined to give her sister a cause for tears on a weekly basis, and that's something even Bella doesn’t do to Dromeda.

There's no need to eavesdrop in the loo in order to hear about the ridiculous Potter Courting Affair: the entire school knows about it and even Lucius joins in the betting over their implausible romantic upheavals (“It’s good money, even if he’s an idiot traitor and she's a filthy Muggle-born”). Every time Potter ruffles his hair or theatrically serves the Snitch to Lily at the end of a Quidditch game, Narcissa's silently grateful that her suitor isn’t so unrefined (if you can call Potter a “suitor”; a "serial pest” seems more like it). But sometimes she thinks that he and Lucius aren’t so different really: they’re both terribly childish, eager to wrangle, even if Lucius does it out of haughtiness and Potter out of righteous stroppiness (though admittingly mixed with considerable bragging of his own). But unlike Lily, Narcissa doesn’t have the luxury of rejecting a suitor she doesn’t care for; Lucius is a perfect match and she knows she'll stick with him.

Almost equally famous is the fact that Evans was old Sluggy’s Potions Princess, unlike Narcissa. She herself is revolted by the need to touch dead bugs and pieces of animal skin, and by the odious smells in the closed cellar. Slughorn even teamed them up to work together once, with an announcement he probably considered very witty: “Two of the most beautiful flowers in Hogwarts!” (After Bellatrix heard that he'd compared her sister to a Mudblood, Slughorn suffered for a week from mud puddles appearing inside his robe's pockets, in his expensive briefcase and his fancy shoes). 

Lily’s beauty really is undeniable and even the boys from Lucius' gang used to eye her greedily. Lily doesn’t bother to fuss with her hair, to remove ink stains from her hands or to conceal the dark circles below her eyes (resulting from many nights of dedicated studiousness). And it's infuriating to see that she's pretty all the same, with lucid green eyes, richly coloured red hair, pale skin and a graceful curve to her neck and lips. 

Even as fellow prefects they don’t interact much. Despite the professors' speeches about unity and their inconsistent fostering of cross-house unity, Hogwarts’ administrative system is comfortable and well adapted to the rivalry between houses. If they need to pair up prefects for a task, they'd do so with that in mind. Narcissa and Lily hear one another speak in prefects’ meetings, or exchange a few sentences, and Narcissa finds that they even talk similarly: practical politeness, stripped of fear, flattery or denial.

As time passes, her certainty about Lily grows. She sees a personality that's strong but not aggressive, confidence that doesn’t build itself up by destroying others, and internal equilibrium, without foolish whims. She sees how Lily conducts herself with self control and conscious restraint. She recognizes a similar moderation learned in self defence, an armour over soft petals that provides protection, but mostly conceals. 

Yet, Narcissa’s also aware of the obvious differences between them. While her own manners are driven by etiquette and caution, in Lily they come from sensitivity. Lily’s kind-hearted, never hesitating to help out of honest compassion, while Narcissa avoids harming so as to reduce mess and unpleasantness. Lily takes a straightforward stand without being pushy about it, while Narcissa deliberately remains in the shadows. There’s a fire within Lily, but it’s not the typical Gryffindor hot temper, a topic of countless jokes in the Black family. It’s also not the Dark Lord’s Fiendfyre, nor like the rustic bonfires Muggle-lovers light for holidays, nor even like the fireplace’s warmth that Dromeda's so fond of. It’s a steady, constant heat, entirely individual and indifferent to anything else, just like Narcissa’s internal iceberg. And for the first time she finds herself curious about another person, one similar enough and different enough to attract her. 

Lily feels it too, she knows. Since the moment their gazes collided in the Prefects’ room, there was a mutual recognition that only grew deeper. It was there every time their eyes met, beneath the mundane words they spoke, and even in the movement of air when they pass each other. But nothing happens to make them deal with it explicitly.

Until one evening when they arrive at the Prefects’ Bathroom at the same time. It’s nighttime already, much later than the usual hour for a bath, but Narcissa had a long day with a double Potions lesson, Bella in a belligerent mood and Lucius annoyingly clingy. This is the first moment in the day when she can rest, and she's exhausted. It only takes a glance to see that Lily’s in a similar state. While Narcissa maintains her flawless outer appearance, some of Lily’s hair's fallen out of her ponytail, her cloak's slipped from one of her shoulders, and her hand is trembling slightly. Narcissa feels a flash of compassion and briefly considers letting Lily go first, but it feels as if she’s about to collapse, too. They stand there for a few more moments, then Lily’s lips part to speak, but before she does Narcissa finds herself saying: “Perhaps we can use it together. There’s enough space.”

Lily observes her, her lack of surprise not just from tiredness, then answers: “Fine.”

There’s no one else in the hall as they enter. Absurdly, it feels natural and easy, as if the presence of the other doesn’t disturb their privacy. They snatch sidelong looks as they take off their clothes, not even stealthily, capturing a lifted shirt exposing a flat stomach, fingers unbuttoning shirts and sliding off underwear. They both linger a bit before heading towards the tub. 

Lily’s body is more curved and feminine than Narcissa’s slim elegance. The roundness of pelvis and breast emphasises her narrow waist and the concavity of her lower back highlights the straight line of her shoulders and the way she carries her head high. Lily's smooth skin glows against her long red hair, the blush in her cheeks and the dark lines of her eyebrows and lashes. Narcissa’s body is more minimalist, with less contrast. She's a study in silver and white, from her narrow hips and slim arms, her pale skin and hair lit by the candlelight. 

They step into the warm water at the same time, watching each other as their bodies are swallowed by the water, watching the glimmering drops on their skin, the soap bubbles that partly conceal. They don’t exchange a word at first, but the atmosphere's calm and easy. When they’re fully submerged they still, their breaths quiet in the closed, clean-smelling space. 

Once again Narcissa speaks almost without intending to, her voice clear and uninflected. “You're very pretty.” 

Lily, in the same quiet tone, answers: “You too.”

  


* * *

  


After that they start meeting regularly, in absolute discretion. They meet very late or very early in the bath but also in the Prefects’ Room. It's a good choice, since it’s barred to the majority of students (unlike the astronomy tower, which might sound secluded and ideal for making out, but considering the number of Hogwarts’ students wanting to use it and its actual size, someone once suggested starting a waiting list). 

The other prefects don’t often use the room themselves. The Ravenclaws are pretty much glued to the library, the Hufflepuffs like being social and prefer their common room which is tucked away quietly (“and far closer to the kitchens, of course,” Lucius had said with disdain). Lucius has declared that he'll never willingly set foot in a space shared with a Mudblood and Lily knows Lupin's schedule and when he's planning to be there. Anyway, they cast a spell to alert them if one of the prefects or teachers gets close. If that happens they always manage to look as if each of them is absorbed in her work in a different corner of the room, or one of them pretends to be leaving. 

They barely change their previous routines. They work on their chores, exchange words occasionally, but there are no deep heart-to-heart conversations. Narcissa finds with surprise that they simply don’t need it: it seems they understand one another without words. 

One change is that they do touch freely, but most of the time it’s not about the physical touches but just being together. Narcissa watches as Lily, dressed in an oversized jumper and torn Muggle trousers, wraps her fingers around a cup of tea, or braids her hair, spreading a scent that Narcissa's familiar with. There’s something so essential about the aesthetic pleasure of being together, combined with the presence of a mind so similar to hers. She knows it’s mutual, that Lily’s aware of her in the same way, and the feeling’s almost doubled, because Narcissa is herself and Lily’s herself and Lily’s hers and she’s Lily’s, and both of them are like two variations of the same thing. It’s intimacy on a level that she never knew existed.

The idea of a lesbian relationship doesn’t alarm Narcissa; literally everything happens in the Wizarding World's aristocracy, it only has to be properly managed and discreet. Romantic relationships aren’t foreign to her, either. But with Lucius, everything's a careful calculation of power and strategy, like any other part of her life. He worships her beauty and treats her with respect, but doesn’t hesitate to clarify his dominance in decision-making, and he's possessive, taking their upcoming marriage for granted. 

With Lily their equality's as clear as their gender, rounded chest pressed to the same softness in a hug that's not about power or ownership, smooth skin without a trace of stubble, and waterfalls of hair, entwining and veiling them from the rest of the world.

But they’re in their seventh year, and the outside world is more and more real as the other students continually discuss potential jobs and desired positions. Narcissa knows what’s expected of her, obviously. No daughter of the Black family has ever worked. After graduation she’ll be trained by her mother tol prepare her to run a manor. And then she'll marry Lucius. 

Her path used to be clear, but now Lily’s existence stands before her, blocking this planned future like an impenetrable screen made from her body movements, the way her eyebrows crease with concentration, the sound of her voice as she memorises paragraphs from a textbook; and for the first time in her life Narcissa finds she is dependent on another person.

  


They’re in the bathroom again; they've stayed there so long that their hair dried again. Narcissa combs her fingers through Lily’s dark red waves while they kiss again and again, unhurried, their breath loud in the quiet room.

When they pause Narcissa speaks, for the first time that evening. “What do you want to do after we finish school?”

She doesn’t know what answer to expect, and what consequence it’ll have, but somehow Lily manages to bypass all the half-formed plans and vague possibilities, and gives an unambiguous answer. “I want to be a mother.”

Something inside Narcissa flinches instinctively. There aren’t many things ridiculed in the Black family as much as talking about mushy family feelings. Public displays of affection (a father lifting his child to ride on his shoulders, a mother tickling her laughing toddler with kisses) caused Druella Black to flare her nostrils and mutter about primitive plebeians. Having children is considered an inevitable duty, and not an especially pleasurable one. It's needed for the continuity of the bloodline: have children, raise them to marry other pure-bloods, and so on. There's no hint of sentiment in it, only the cold preference for a male heir (Cygnus Black never hid his discontent with Druella for producing three daughters).

But when Narcissa looks at Lily, she doesn’t feel any impulse to mock. She’d sensed a warmth and light shining from Lily when she talked of motherhood, something just quite different from her usual fire. She remembers the letters Lily frequently gets from home, full of care and interest (Narcissa read them too, since Lily opens them while they're curled on the sofa in the Prefects’ Room, her head in Lily’s lap while she was playing with her hair). Lily herself writes back diligently, sometimes attaching a small package, a birthday gift or just something she thought they’d find intriguing (meaning, pretty much anything in the castle that can be carried by owl). Inside her homework diary there’s a family picture, painfully different from the grave portraits that hang on the wall in Narcissa’s house. It shows Lily’s father behind the rest of the family with his arms on the shoulders of the three women, Lily resting her head on his shoulder while her mother kisses her, and one of her hands holding Petunia’s. Narcissa once overheard one of Lily’s friends asking her why she even stays in touch with Petunia, and Lily simply answered, “She’s my sister.” Lily showed up one day with a new Muggle pen, an awful green-coloured thing with a toad at the top. Narcissa couldn’t help wrinkling her nose, but Lily just laughed and said, “It’s from Tuney.”

Narcissa’s familiar with the concept of family loyalty. For years the pure-blooded families had to cling to one another to survive. But even though they talk about blood, it feels more like iron chains. In contrast, Lily's feelings about her family are warm and alive, like the red liquid filling her veins. 

It’s not difficult to imagine Lily dressing an infant in tiny clothes, reading stories and singing lullabies. Narcissa saw the way she treated the first years, patient and calming and smiling, or coming to their defense like a lioness with her cubs. 

For a second Narcissa manages to picture herself in this future, in a small house where they’d do the dishes themselves and bath their baby together. A tiny piece of happiness built from true choice and freedom, not from the history twisting in the endless branches of her bloodline. 

She thinks about Sirius who shrugged them all off even before he was officially banished: always laughing, certain of himself and his chosen friends, never regretting. But she, more than others, can see the shadow that sometimes clouds his handsome face, the mark of being cast out by his kin. And Narcissa knows that even if she cut off her relations and started a new family, the dark imbroglio of the Blacks would stay with her, deep in her blood, staining her as much as Lily’s Muggleness. Narcissa would bring with her the constant danger of vengeful relatives, if not at first, then at some point over the years. She thinks about Regulus's blind obedience to Black family rules, about Bella’s mad blood-thirst, and shivers.

Lily’s eyes are pained and Narcissa knows Lily has already thought it through, that she's already given up on her.

“I love you,” Lily says for the first time and it hurts Narcissa intensely to understand that it’s also the last. “But my child… I want him to have a clean slate. He deserves a clean slate.” She levels her gaze. 

Narcissa thinks about the non-stop harassment and bullying Lily suffers as a Muggle-born. About her friendship with a boy who's a werewolf (Severus told Lucius about it years ago, but neither of them dared face Dumbledore’s fury by acting on the knowledge. Besides, Narcissa didn’t need them to tell her in order to work it out; Lupin goes missing once a month like clockwork, returns talking rubbish about being ill, and his moronic friends call him Moony, in the name of Merlin). She thinks about Lily’s long, close relationship with Severus, the hungriest boy she’s ever met. About the eternal friction with her jealous sister.   
  
And Narcissa sees how all of this is a constant struggle that robs Lily of her energy. Lily’s tired, she wants to rest. And although the noble Gryffindor attitude declares outside circumstances don’t matter, only the inner code of bravery and honour, the harsh reality Lily struggles with reinforces what the The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black stands for: bloodline, money, power and appearances. 

  


* * *

  


Narcissa is the first to know that Lily Evans has agreed to go out with James Potter. She knows even before he does. 

Enthusiastic, generous James, every bit of him a testament to his open-armed family, to so much light and happiness - Lily wants that for her child. 

Just like gentle Dromeda, who yearns for simple warmth and honesty and who's turned to the chubby Muggle-born to find it. Even Bella has chosen, preferring a blind obsession and devotion to the Dark Lord.

Narcissa will have a child with the cleanest slate possible. Pure-blooded, rich, with a well-connected father and a mother who will give him everything she couldn’t give Lily Evans. 

  


They don’t meet any more. 

  


She marries Lucius and follows the Daily Prophet until she sees a news item about the wedding in Godric’s Hollow. She doesn’t need the papers to hear that Lily also got the baby she wanted, because the entire Wizarding World's heard about the wild celebrations James Potter - with Sirius Black’s inebriated assistance - held to honour his son’s birth.

The night they're told of the Dark Lord’s defeat, their world is chaotic. Lucius, typically slippery, starts planning how to keep their position in this leaderless new world. Narcissa sits with her face completely frozen, only tears moving on her cheeks. She’s not frightened, but for a moment she can’t stand the thought of Lily Evans’s cold body.  
  
It is possible Narcissa was the only one who wasn’t surprised to find out the boy lived: she knew Lily well enough to know she’d never give up on him, not even in death.

When Lucius suggests Draco makes friends with “that Potter child” as another form of disguise, Narcissa silently agrees, and can’t help but hope for some kind of a closure. But that's not what happens. Draco feels slighted, so Lily's son becomes the focus of his anger and jealousy.   
  
It feels as though both sons took after their fathers, sharing none of the connection between their mothers. Their rivalry is worse than Lucius's and James’s juvenile strife; the Dark Lord is back and their world's divided again, standing on either side of the barricade.   
  
Sometimes she resents Lily for leaving her (time after time, each more painful than the other), forcing her to face alone the expanding chasm between their two worlds.

But in some way Lily doesn’t desert her when she begs Severus for her child, her only son. She’s certain he knew Lily well enough to picture her in front of him, and that's the only reason he obliged.

Only once, when she meets Harry Potter face to face in Madam Malkin's shop, her arrogance is more than the usual veneer. The boy stands in front of her son, cocky and combative like Lily never was, reminding her so much of James that she’s suddenly filled with a bitterness she didn’t know she still held for the man who took Lily away and got to live with her for the last, precious years of her life. 

Over a year later, the boy is drugged inside her house. He's almost unrecognisable with his face swollen, but Narcissa knows him in a heartbeat. She summons all of her cold confidence to keep the situation under control, to try and find some kind of solution, though she hasn’t got a clue. All she knows is that Lily would have counted on her. Bellatrix and Lucius nearly go mad after the house elf shows up to rescue the prisoners, but Narcissa’s relieved. 

And then they’re in the forest and the Dark Lord chooses her among all of them to check if Lily’s child is alive. She touches him gently and something inside her revives as she feels his heart beating. There’s no need for further examination, but Narcissa lifts one of his eyelids because she can’t lose the opportunity to see that clear green once more.

When she declares him dead, knowing she’s saving Lily’s son and her own at the same time, she feels once more how the universe's lines intersect. 

  



End file.
